Song of Twilight
by Lego Land
Summary: What if everything was not as it seemed? How would events have changed if Aragorn had stumbled upon the cold, hard truth?AL
1. CHAPTER I

TITLE: Song of Twilight  
  
GENRE: Lord of the Rings  
  
RATING: R (for angst/sap)  
  
PAIRING: A/L  
  
SETTING: Alternate Universe. Written as eight missing scenes throughout the book. Before the Fellowship leaves Rivendell and continues beyond their stay in Lothlorien. From the final page in Chapter 5 of Book 6 in The Return of the King, all Arwen's parts are omitted.  
  
SYNOPSIS: What if everything was not as it seemed? How would events have changed if Aragorn had stumbled upon the cold, hard truth?  
  
NOTE: Va`na, the ever-young, is one of the Valor or Gods of Middle-Earth. Reference; Encyclopedia of Arda http://www.glyphweb.com/arda/  
  
DISCLAIMER: Alas, only in my dreams, for in reality Tolkien's selfish and hoards it all.  
  
  
  
1.1.1 SONG OF TWILIGHT  
  
2 CHAPTER I  
  
2.1 "Three Rings for the Elven-kings under the sky,"  
  
2.2 J.R.R. Tolkien  
  
  
  
Aragorn tread through Rivendell's overgrown, serene paths. Hearing a familiar tinkling laughter, a smile tugged at his care-worn features. Changing his course, he hurried his pace. He knew this path well; for it led to a small clearing where he and Arwen often met. As he came upon "their" glade, his steps faltered. He could distinctly make out two voices. He stopped behind an old Beech tree. Unwilling to invade the pair's privacy, he decided to wait for an opening in the conversation before entering the glade.  
  
His beloved Arwen was speaking, her amused voice chiding another. "…Honestly think he would choose you, did you?" She laughed, mocking the other's apparent ignorance. "He doesn't even see you. Your nothing, just another nameless elf."  
  
Aragorn was shocked at Arwen's cruelty. He was unsure whom they discussed, but her obvious mirth at the other's pain was disquieting.  
  
"I was not seeking to make him choose, sister." A soft, lilting voice sighed. "There was never any competition."  
  
"Very true." Arwen agreed. Suddenly her voice became malicious as she goaded. "For after all, what could he possibly see in you? You're certainly nothing remarkable among our kind. No, it was never truly a competition."  
  
"If you have nothing more to say, I have things to do before the journey, Lady Arwen." Aragorn now recognized the voice as the same that defended him to Boromir at the council. Legolas' voice writhed with barely contained anguish.  
  
"Oh yes, do hurry along. You wouldn't want to be late." Arwen's next words stopped the elf's departure before he'd taken a single step. "Oh, I very nearly forgot." By the sugar-sweet tone, Aragorn was sure she had done no such thing. It was blatantly obvious she had prepared this final barb with lethal intent. "Be sure to watch his back, I do wish my Evenstar returned."  
  
Aragorn nearly gasped aloud at this sudden realization.  
  
Him!  
  
They were discussing him. Almost as though he were a prize, nothing more than the outcome of a game. A bawdy trinket the winner would receive: when the real prize was the knowledge of having bested the other competitors.  
  
"Your Evenstar?" He barely heard the softly murmured words over his rising outrage.  
  
"Yes, he wears it about his neck." Arwen confirmed happily. "He loves 'me' after all."  
  
Disgusted, he staggered back, missing any further comments. Besides the fact that he had no idea who Arwen truly was anymore, he had allowed himself to be fooled. Allowed himself to be used, it would seem, only to ensure he belonged to no one else.  
  
Pulling himself free of this nearly mind numbing realization, Aragorn silently waited for both figures to leave before he began wandering once more. He had much to think about. 


	2. CHAPTER II

1 CHAPTER II  
  
1.1 "Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone,"  
  
1.2 J.R.R. Tolkien  
  
  
  
Aragorn returned from his walk hours later, long past the rising of the moon. Slowly circumventing the deserted halls, he made his way toward his room.  
  
In his wanderings, he'd come across more questions than answers. Although he was unsure whether he would ever be capable of once more trusting Arwen, he didn't wish to sever all ties with her either. However, Aragorn couldn't simply forget what he'd heard.  
  
Confused and tired, he silently entered his room. Judging by the amount of wax spilled upon his bedside table, the candles lighting his room had been lit several hours ago. Closing the door behind him, Gondor's heir slowly slipped off his cloak and belt. He tossed them over the room's only chair as he walked toward his bed. Dropping onto the feathered mattress, Aragorn removed his boots one at a time and tossed them to the floor.  
  
For a moment he simply stared at the shadows dancing on the wall.  
  
Shaking his head, he rose to his feet, grabbed a candle from the table and crossed the room. Leaning over the chairs back, he plucked a clean piece of parchment from a pile on his desk. He uncorked a small bottle of black ink then gently took an old, worn quill in hand. Aragorn dipped it in the ink and began to write:  
  
Dear Arwen,  
  
I cannot in good conscience accept your vow of eternal love, for I have come to doubt its veracity. I feel I no longer know you, having come across maligning information. Therefore, I am taking this time of separation to search my heart in the hope that I can regain some measure of clarity.  
  
Yours,  
  
1.3 Estel  
  
Carefully rolling the ivory parchment. He lifted the candle and slowly tipped it, sealing the letter with a small glob of cooling wax. Setting the candle down, Aragorn removed his ring and pressed it to the seal. He then pulled a thin, circular tube from a desk drawer. Although it was made of leather, the case was hard and unbending. At one end, tied on by a thin string, the tube's cap hung open.  
  
Only then did he lift the Evenstar from around his neck. Holding it before him, he studied the shimmering jewel. It was truly beautiful, as was its owner. Unfortunately, external beauty was not a prerequisite of internal beauty; for which Arwen seemed rather lacking.  
  
With quiet resolve, he dropped the letter and necklace inside the case.  
  
Sealing it, he set it beside the now guttering candle. Tomorrow, he would give it to Elrohir with instructions to hand it to Arwen only after the Fellowship had left.  
  
Maybe upon his return, he'd have the answers he sought. 


	3. CHAPTER III

CHAPTER III  
  
  
  
1.1 "Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die,"  
  
1.2 J.R.R. Tolkien  
  
  
  
Upon the Fellowship's arrival in Lothlorien, they were lead to a small, secluded glade deep within the forest. Weary with exhaustion and sorrow, the group bathed and redressed in silence. Later, they were given food, drink, and rest as the elves lamented the loss of Gandalf.  
  
As the group listened to the elves sing Aragorn slunk unnoticed into the surrounding woods. Throughout the treacherous journey over Caradhras and then Moria, he'd been too busy to think of anything but finding safety. Therefore, the Ranger sought a bit of seclusion to gather and sort his thoughts.  
  
Lothlorien was a place of remarkable beauty. Structure and nature merged seamlessly; from the huge trees supporting homes and expansive bridges to the magnificent sculptures nearly masked beneath flourishing greenery. The very air appeared to glow with vibrancy. A sense of overwhelming peace pervaded every centimeter of the lush forest.  
  
Aragorn eventually stopped before a crystal clear spring. Its translucent, shimmering waters were nothing like the black depths of Mirrormere. A Mellyrn tree no more than five feet from its bank created the perfect place for solitary contemplation.  
  
"All is not as it appears." The regal cadence of the voice made it unnecessary for Aragorn to see the speaker; thus he remained facing the rippling water as he answered.  
  
"To what do you refer?"  
  
"You know what I speak of, son of Arathorn." Galadriel sharply replied. She sighed heavily before continuing. "You commiserate endlessly over Arwen's betrayal…"  
  
Pushing off the tree he'd been leaning against, Aragorn turned toward the white clad figure.  
  
"I don't know that it was betrayal." He insisted. "I only heard the end of the conversation. I could have misunderstood."  
  
"Whom do you wish to convince?"  
  
"She was willing to give up her immortality." Desperately grasping at the fraying strands of his relationship, he defiantly reasoned. "For ME."  
  
"Was she?" Galadriel questioned. One thin brow rose sharply upward. "She is Elrond's child and therefore privileged to knowledge of your birth."  
  
"No!" Aragorn gasped. His voice dropping to a whisper, he breathed; "She would have said something if she'd known."  
  
"And yet when she offered to give up her life, you did not tell her of your Mother's true identity."  
  
"I…I couldn't" He stuttered helplessly. Shaking his head vigorously, Strider growled. "Your wrong."  
  
"Am I?" Her sparkling blue eyes narrowed slightly. "If you have no doubts then why did you return her Evenstar?"  
  
Dropping his face into his hands, Aragorn fell back against the tree. "Its not possible. She… I… " Finally, he pleaded. "Why are you doing this to me?"  
  
"You who would be King of Gondor have had your eyes closed to the truth far to long." Stepping closer, she sighed. "Va'na put Middle-Earth's fate in your hands when she bore you as Gilraen. You cannot continue on this path of falsehood."  
  
"What would you have me do?"  
  
"Your heart will lead you."  
  
"Where?" He raised his head. Shaking the brown locks from his face, he stared at the elf. "My heart sings only of Arwen."  
  
Forlornly, she slowly shook her head. "Your mind deceives you by whispering what you know. Your heart… your heart beats only for one."  
  
"One?" Aragorn demanded. "And who would this one be, for I know of no one but Arwen?"  
  
"Once again, you ignore the ever loyal companion."  
  
Angry at the elf for seeing what he could not, he growled back. "I know not whom you speak of. My only 'companions' are four hobbits I barely know, a dwarf too eager for a fight, a man I can't trust, and an elf who rarely speaks."  
  
Her hands clasped behind her back, Galadriel slowly circled Aragorn. She tilted her head to one side as she watched him. Finally her voice soft and mournful, she whispered. "I fear you may not see clearly until too late."  
  
As she turned to leave the clearing, Strider leaped forward. "Wait! Please, a name, anything." He begged.  
  
Her parting advice shocked him with its familiarity. "Open your eyes, son of Arathorn, you need only 'see' what is before you."  
  
"'He doesn't even see you. Your nothing…'" As though the very wind were mocking him, Arwen's grating words came back to haunt him. 


	4. CHAPTER IV

1 NOTE: I guess an explanation is required. I love happy endings. The real world gives us enough of the other crap; thus the reason I read, especially sci-fi/fantasy. I didn't want Aragorn and Legolas to have a couple happy years with the constant threat of Aragorn's eventual death hanging above them. So I "fixed" it.  
  
2  
  
3 -------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------------  
  
4  
  
5  
  
6 CHAPTER IV  
  
  
  
6.1 "One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne"  
  
6.2 J.R.R. Tolkien  
  
  
  
The Fellowship of eight slowly circumvented the Undeeps; the two great loops the River Anduin made. Behind them, the beauty of Lothlorien was but a distant, fond memory.  
  
Aragorn glanced over his left shoulder at the two Elven canoes following close behind. His eyes immediately sought Legolas' lithe frame in the rear boat. He was surprised when he found the elf already watching him. Realizing he'd been caught staring, Legolas quickly averted his cerulean orbs. The tips of his sharply pointed ears blushed an astonishing shade of crimson.  
  
The Ranger turned back around, the rhythmic pattern of his rowing never faltering.  
  
How many other shy glances had he overlooked? How many times had he missed those perfect ears redden in embarrassment?  
  
Those questions immediately engendered a hundred more. He was suddenly desperate to discover what else he'd ignored, to make up for wasted time.  
  
Looking back once more, he watched the elf's every movement. From the flexing muscles in his broad shoulders as he paddled the canoe, to the solemn cast of his features as he watched the rivers banks. Aragorn briefly studied those elegant, strong hands. His eyes slowly rose to the golden locks fluttering in the wind.  
  
Why had he never seen the way the sunlight reflects off every shimmering strand, or the way the rivers watery depths glistened within his eyes?  
  
He hated to admit it, but Arwen had been right. Until the Quest, Legolas had been just another nameless elf: one beautiful blond among a sea of others. They'd known each other for years, yet Aragorn never took the time to look at him.  
  
Until recently, that is.  
  
On their journey to Lothlorien, he'd witnessed countless spectacles of Legolas' nature. He saw the elf's playfulness as he ran ahead of the group on Caradhras. His nose pink from the chill air, Legolas lightly danced atop the snow "seeking the sun" as he'd stated. The Prince's bravery had shown brilliantly as he stood before the snarling wolves with bow in hand atop the Misty Mountains. Delaying his own escape by dragging Gimli from Balin's tomb. Finally, he wove beautiful, relaxing tales of Lorien through both word and song. He possessed a gentle spirit, a cunning mind, and sharp wit for which Aragorn had only recently seen.  
  
Sighing, Aragorn turned back to the task of navigating his small boat. He could only hope he hadn't been blinded too long. 


	5. CHAPTER V

NOTE: I'm sorry if anyone finds my use of Tolkien's works offensive, however there is always the option not to read it. This IS purely fiction.  
  
  
  
1 CHAPTER V  
  
  
  
"In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie."  
  
1.1 J.T.T. Tolkien  
  
  
  
Aragorn slowly advanced on the elf's motionless frame. He gently laid his left hand on one taut shoulder before following Legolas' gaze out across the plains of Rohan. They'd been following the marching Orc for two days. Their only hope of finding the small ones still living was the Elven pin found upon the trampled ground. It now lay tucked securely within Aragorn's pack.  
  
"Have you slept at all this night, old friend?"  
  
"My mind will not rest."  
  
"You need as much as we." The Ranger squeezed the muscles beneath his palm. He murmured, "You are even more quiet than usual, I worry for you."  
  
"You need not. I will not hinder our pace." His lilting words were sharp, almost defiant.  
  
"That is not why I worry." Turning the elf's body, he gently cupped one pale cheek. "You are dear to me, Legolas."  
  
A slender hand rose to cover Aragorn's before the Prince closed his too bright eyes.  
  
"Perhaps I should not care so deeply," The Man whispered. "But my heart will not listen."  
  
"What of Arwen?" Legolas breathed. "Where does she place in your heart?"  
  
"She does not." Sighing, the Ranger ran one hand through his unruly hair. "Once, I would not have said so, for her beauty blinded me. Yet I have come to realize she is like the clouds above, although pleasant to look upon, they have no substance."  
  
Legolas gasped. His eyes going impossibly wide, he shook his head in denial. Dark brows furrowing, he accused, "Yet you wear her Evenstar."  
  
"But briefly." Aragorn admitted. "I gave it back before we lift Rivendell."  
  
For a long moment, the elf merely stared into the Ranger's dark eyes as though he could sense the sincerity of the words. With a slight nod, he once more turned northward. He was silent in thought for a long while.  
  
"They are far far away," he said sadly, turning to Aragorn. "I know in my heart that they have not rested…"  
  
The sudden change in topic obviously signaled the end of their previous conversation. Aragorn listened somberly as Legolas spoke of the Hobbit's fate. He would give the Elven Prince as much time as he needed to sort through his feelings. It was about time someone else took up the flame the elf had patiently kept burning. 


	6. CHAPTER VI

1  
  
2  
  
3 CHAPTER VI  
  
  
  
3.1 "One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them,"  
  
3.2 J.R.R. Tolkien  
  
  
  
Once the door at the top of the stairwell had been firmly shut, Aragorn collapsed against it. He let his chin fall against his chest. Taking a deep breath, he released it in a trembling sigh. He'd surely be dead if it weren't for Legolas' protection after he'd stumbled. The Orc had been close on his heels and only the single arrow had saved his life.  
  
He pushed himself away from the door, staggering briefly until a steadying hand caught his shoulder. Aragorn's head rose, eyes searching for his benefactor. He found himself staring into Legolas' overly bright blue eyes. Before he could gather the breath to speak, dry lips pressed against his own. The elf pressed him back against the door. The slender hand on his shoulder slid up into Aragorn's hair. His eyelids fluttered shut and he parted his lips in invitation.  
  
The contrasts between the hard, muscular body pressing against him and the soft, mobile mouth tentatively moving with his, was mind numbing. He'd never felt anything like it in all his life.  
  
Finally, with a gentle swipe of his tongue, Legolas pulled away. Opening his eyes, Aragorn raised a hand to caress the drifting strands of hair back behind the elf's delicate ears.  
  
"My heart will sing of nothing else." Legolas whispered.  
  
Leaning forward, the Ranger stole another kiss from the swollen red lips. Once the pair separated, Aragorn pulled the elf close. Embracing Legolas tightly, he brushed his lips against a sharply pointed ear.  
  
"Where are the others?"  
  
"In the citadel." The elf's soft voice was husky with pent up emotion.  
  
Aragorn reluctantly released his hold on the Prince. Tenderly running his fingertips across one angular cheekbone, the Ranger stepped back.  
  
"Shall we join them?"  
  
"Aye."  
  
"Things go ill, my friend," Aragorn said, wiping the sweat from his brow with his arm.  
  
The pair continued speaking as the walked across the Rock. As Saruman's forces drew closer to victory, Aragorn could only pray to Elbereth -- the Sindarin Goddess of the stars – that he and Legolas would get the chance to explore their newly discovered feelings. 


	7. CHAPTER VII

1  
  
2  
  
3 CHAPTER VII  
  
   
  
   
  
3.1 "One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them"  
  
3.2 J.R.R. Tolkien  
  
   
  
   
  
   
  
"She speaks only the truth."  
  
   
  
Aragorn turned away from Eowyn's departing figure to find Legolas standing behind him. He'd thought the elf had gone to sleep. Considering the arduous journey and upcoming battles of the next several days, they'd need all the rest they could get.  
  
   
  
"Those that know you cannot help but love you," the elf continued.  
  
   
  
Taking a step toward Legolas, the Ranger asked, "Even you?"  
  
   
  
"Especially me," he whispered.  
  
   
  
Gently cupping one angular cheek, Aragorn tilted the other's face upward. His thumb caressed the silken skin before the other hand rose to tangle within the thick, blond locks. Legolas closed his eyes and nuzzled the Ranger. Turning his lips into Aragorn's palm, the elf placed a whisper soft kiss against the tanned flesh. Opening his eyes, he glanced up.  
  
   
  
"I have loved thee since the moment our eyes met."  
  
   
  
Releasing a shuddering breath, Aragorn pulled the Prince into his arms. At once, Legolas tucked his head beneath the Ranger's chin, resting his ear over the rapidly beating heart.  
  
   
  
"Elbereth!" Aragorn moaned hoarsely. "Do you know how dearly I have wished to hear that from your lips?"  
  
   
  
He closed his eyes tightly against the emotions raging within. Nearly crushing the lean body against him, Aragorn buried his face within the elf's hair. "I love you," he breathed.  
  
   
  
Legolas' long fingers convulsively grasped at the Ranger's tunic. Raising his head, he lightly kissed the base of the man's throat.  
  
   
  
Aragorn chuckled as the elf's breath tickled his skin. A single tear slowly made it's way down his right cheek. "I feel I could fly with you at my side."  
  
   
  
"And tomorrow, you shall." Legolas murmured. "We will win past the Dead, defeat Sauron's forces…" The elf pulled away and took a step back. Clasping his hands over Aragorn's cheeks, he continued, "And you will take your place as King of all Gondor."  
  
   
  
"Will you remain at my side?"  
  
   
  
Legolas blinked. "If you wish."  
  
   
  
"I wish." Aragorn whispered. Taking the slender fingers of both the elf's hands in his, he laughed. "Marry me?"  
  
   
  
His eyes huge, Legolas stared into the Ranger's dark orbs. "What…?"  
  
   
  
"Marry me?" Aragorn repeated. "Promise to stay with me forever, beloved?"  
  
   
  
For a long silent moment, Aragorn feared the elf would say no. After what seemed like an eternity, Legolas finally whispered. "Yes, for I know you could not promise the same."  
  
   
  
"I would not lose you; thus you have my vow…" Aragorn began only to find his words barred by one of Legolas' hands.  
  
   
  
"Do not make promises you cannot keep." His voice mournful, the elf slowly withdrew his hand. "Although there is Elven blood flowing through your veins, you are still a man and will not live forever."  
  
   
  
Aragorn captured Legolas' fleeing fingers with one hand. Holding them tightly, he shook his head in denial. "Only part of me. My Mother was Va`na, the Ever-young."  
  
   
  
"One of the Valar." Legolas gasped in awe. "But that would make you…"  
  
   
  
"Immortal," Aragorn interrupted. "And that is all that matters, beloved." His eyes sparkling, he lowered his lips to Legolas', stopping any further argument.  
  
   
  
He truly did not care that his Mother was a God. He was not impervious to wound or disease, nor did he hold claim on any magical powers. The only benefit her intervention offered was a chance at eternity. With Legolas at his side, he could ask for no more. 


	8. CHAPTER VIII

1  
  
2  
  
3 CHAPTER VIII  
  
  
  
"In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie."  
  
3.1 J.R.R. Tolkien  
  
  
  
The War of the Ring, as it had become known, started the fourth age in Arnor's history. Once Sauron's forces had been crushed, Gondor, Rohan, and Eriador were easily liberated. It had taken many years however to free Mirkwood from Sauron's influence. Dol Guldur remained an Orc stronghold long after the Ringwraiths abandonment. Although the wars and successive battles had succeeded, they had not come out unscathed. Many had been lost amidst the shadows.  
  
It was often hard to believe that two hundred blissful years had passed since those horrible months of uncertainty. After a reign of nearly one century, Aragorn had stepped down, allowing his heir to take the throne. Of his heirs, for there were actually two, he and Legolas had adopted and raised Boromir's children. Although their Mother reared them, the twins remained in the City of Kings rather than with their Uncle Farimir.  
  
Far in the distance, Emyn-nu-Fuin – the Mountains of Mirkwood – rose above the treetops. Its towering peaks stretched across the horizon until they once more disappeared into the forest. Standing high above the forest floor, on the balcony outside his bedroom, Aragorn gazed southward. Green leafed boughs obscured much of the view. However, now and then, with the shifting of limbs in the breeze he caught a glimpse of the distant mountains. Beyond, he knew lay the glittering cities of Gondor.  
  
"Do you miss it?"  
  
The softly spoken words sent a shiver down Aragorn's spine. His husband, lover, and partner in all things for more than two centuries moved silently across the leaf-strewn terrace. Aragorn twined his fingers with the slender ones that came to rest upon his silk-clad hips. Legolas' hands felt cool through the thin Elven robe. Nestling against his back, the elf's breath whispered across his neck with each silent exhale.  
  
"Sometimes," Aragorn whispered. "But I think I yearn for the splendor of Gondor rather than the throne itself: the scent of the flowers in Amon Din when the Eldest of Trees bloomed, the way all of Druadan Forest seemed to change color with the onset of winter, and the lights, Gods, the way the cities would seem to glow at night."  
  
"We can visit." Lips brushed the base of his neck. "It has been years since we left Mirkwood last."  
  
The Ranger released Legolas' fingers and turned in his lover's arms. "Perhaps we could pass by way of Lothlorien. Autumn will soon be upon us."  
  
"Follow the Anduin down to Minas Tirith." Grinning broadly, the elf stretched upward and laid a chaste kiss upon Aragorn's lips. "On the way home, we can go through Rohan. After all, I have been meaning to replace Arod."  
  
Aragorn pulled the lean body against him and slid his arms about the other's waist. "Maybe we can stop by Hobbitton, visit with Sam's grandchildren."  
  
"Oh certainly, with presents for each and every one." Legolas nuzzled the sensitive skin of Aragorn's throat.  
  
Chuckling softly at the elf's enthusiasm, Aragorn dipped his head and teasingly swept his lips over Legolas'. Pulling away, he whispered, "You have to promise me one thing."  
  
"Anything." Legolas moaned softly as Aragorn nibbled his way up the elf's jaw.  
  
Aragorn ran his tongue up one delicate earlobe. "You can't name another horse Arod. Three is enough."  
  
"Fine," the elf gasped. Tilting his head upward, he dived at the Ranger's parted lips.  
  
When they finally parted for air, Legolas gently untied the belt of Aragorn's robe. Slowly, he turned away and began walking off the balcony, pulling the silken tie behind him. "I'll name it Estel."  
  
"Legolas!" Aragorn yelled.  
  
The conniving elf took off running, childlike laughter trailing in his wake. Shaking his head, Aragorn followed his giggling lover into their bedroom.  
  
  
  
  
  
THE END  
  
  
  
I've never done love scenes before, let alone slash, so I can only hope it doesn't sound to outlandish. Well, I hope you all enjoyed it. Fair thee well. 


End file.
